


The King's Fool And His Puppet

by ticks



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Drug Addiction, M/M, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-17 02:51:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8127563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ticks/pseuds/ticks
Summary: Bruce Wayne finds himself locked up in a basement, hanged up in chains to the roof. Obviously the Joker is behind it all. Though this time he has a different game in mind where he has the advantage.





	1. Dance Puppet, Dance

The chains rattled as he tried to move. 

He quickly got the impression of being hung up over the floor level by the wrists. Blurry vision didn’t help his case in the murky room smelling strange with all sorts of odors. The one light source was a blue fluorescent lamp hanging over the metal door, that occasionally flickered leaving him in total darkness for a second or two.

Other than the one way in and out of the room the space lacked furniture beside what looked like a blood-covered stainless steel sink. Additional knives, guns and ammunition lied spread all over the sink, smeared in blood as well. 

Peaking around while his sight slowly improving the man couldn’t spot anything else.

Making an attempt to look at the area behind him made the man realize how much agonizing pain his body was in. Looking down at his torso and chest it was still covered partly in the black armor the city of Gotham both feared and loved. Bits mainly from the upper body was missing, the covering face-mask was still sitting firmly over parts of his face. He didn’t think about why.

Bruce Wayne’s shoulders and wrists ached most of all. How could he relive the pain? Once more looking around just to his disappointment find a small stool, just barley too short for him to reach with his feet.

Fuck.

Bruce grunted, both with frustration and pain. Whoever kept him here didn’t make it easier for him, rather teasing the guts out of the Bat. Intentionally, if you asked Bruce.

Licking his lips, trying to make a sound Bruce started to form words. His hoarse voice even made himself lose spirit. No way he could catch someone’s attention while sounding like _this_. Hell to the burning in his throat. 

”Anybody here? Hellooo…”, cried the enchained man. To no use, just as he expected. Thinking of the moldy room he assumed the basement was far off, hell, he might even be out of Gotham’s radar. 

_Radar_.Yes! Remembering the microchip Alfred had inserted several months in advance at the lower of Bruce’s neck he would be able to trace him. Alfred would come for him, he was certain. Whenever Batman fucked up Alfred got the be the savior. 

A dull hope brightened Bruce Wayne’s rather dark situation. 

Alfred would come for him.

Yes, he had to. Otherwise the rather dark situation… would… turn… out… quite… darker…

The room got further and further away from reality and Bruce slipped into a painless oblivion.  


 

* * *

The past three days Bruce wandered between passing out by sheer pain and the untroubled oblivion he experienced while being decked, always waking up in a little bit more pain when he was awake the last time.

Still hanging by the wrist he wondered if he would ever fully get back the movement, rotation and strength in the shoulders. Probably not, but with the right rehabilitation they might still have a fighting chance.

During the past days the fluorescent lamp had flickered out sometime when the armored man was passed out, leaving Bruce in complete darkness. Not that he didn’t fancy the gloominess. Rather the opposite, actually. 

It took some time to get used to the loneliness though. The first day he had tried talking to himself only to end up with more of a sore throat then before, aching by the thought of water or any liquor for that matter.

That’s why the ice cold water poured over him came like a slap over the cheek; sudden and painful. Drenching every inch of exploited, naked skin, aiming to hurt him with its piercing coldness.

Bruce shuddered and shook where he stuck to the roof in the solid chains. Darting his tongue out of his mouth to try and catch even a single drop of the water clinging to his growing beard. The water was enough to leave his mouth damped but the throat was still hurting.

Slowly overcoming the tremendous pain the water caused, Bruce could focus on the two silhouettes who had entered the basement. One standing slightly closer to the Bat than the other. Then, there was the _voice_. 

”Fetch our friend here another bucket of water, will you.” Even if it technically was a question it certainly didn’t sound like one.

”I’m _so_ sorry I left you hanging – no joke intended - I didn’t mean to make you wait this long before we could get started playing, I just had my hands full,” the silhouette spoke with a naturally raspy voice, ”but now I have all the time in the world.”

Bruce’s primal instincts took over and he panicked, lounging back and fourth in the chains. Adrenaline pumped out into each and every inch of the hanging body and dampened the pain, making him fight even harder against the cold chains keeping his body just where The Joker wanted him to be.

The Joker didn’t seem to mind the sudden panic attack instead walking a couple of turns around Batman, eyeing him up and down. His mouth was hanging partly open, the tongue darting out of its place just like he weighted two options agains each other, trying to work up which would fit the situation better.

Still panicking, Bruce’s flight or fight instincts couldn’t rage freely so his body became numb and dead-still. As the adrenaline washed out of his system the pain almost overwhelmed him, caught him off guard and made the usually very strong man weaker than he had ever been before.

”So, now when you are at your senses again - another wash, shall we.” Stepping away from Batman, the Joker nodded once towards the unknown shadow to give Bruce another go with the cold water.

Not sure if it was possible but the water felt even colder than the first time it hit Bruce’s partly naked body.

Rattling teeth was the one noise which filled the dark room just before the Joker spoke. ”Trevor, make yourself useful and fetch a new light. I can’t stand the non-existing sight of my arch enemy.”

Bruce spat wryly at the Jokers statement. He was a ridiculous man for sure, no doubt about that. Trying to shift his weight from one shoulder to the other caught the Jokers attention. 

”Oh, stop that. The rattling is such an annoying sound, and I’d rather not want to get mad at you. But the chains are here to stay, so please just cope with them for now, will you.” demanded the Joker as he removed something from his hands. Probably his gloves, Bruce thought to himself.

The guy who appeared to be Trevor came back from God knows where and started mounting the new fluorescent light and just like that - click - the room filled with the same blue light, only brighter, Bruce had gotten used to from the first time he woke up in the damp basement.

”Now - go,” the Joker snapped at Trevor who didn’t had to be told twice what to do, disappeared out of the metal door and closed it followed by an echo.

Bruce took a second to get used to the new bright surroundings. The Joker stood hunched over the now confirmed object in the room, the metal sink. It was indeed covered in blood, a lot of it actually.

”Why so quiet, hm? You don’t want to play?” The smiling freak put on a sour face, just to draw a reaction from the Bat. ”Not? Well, guess I should get going then. Gotham doesn’t run itself, you know.”

Batman tried making his mouth speak the words, but his sore throat made the words stuck before he was able to get any of them out. Only air escaped him.

”What was that? I think I heard something, come on. Try, try again. Only louder this time.” 

The Joker stepped closer only to exaggerate trying to make out the Bats silent requirement, putting his ear really close the the Bats lips.

”W… Wa-… ter…”

”Oh! Water, yes, water! See, all better now when you’re trying. What about water, by the way?”, asked the Joker, putting on another miserable face. ”We only had two buckets with us, and we used those to try and wash away the stench of piss, shit and sweat. Can’t say we succeeded, though.”

Realizing most of the strange odors in the room didn’t come from the dried pools of blood but rather from the Bat himself, Bruce flinched. 

”No worries,”, the Joker exclaimed as he watched the to-be puppet of his make a frowning face, ”I counted on it, and it shall all be clear to you - eventually.”

Sighing, the Joker grabbed the stool from under the dangling Batman and put it infront of him, sitting down in a comfortable position. Looking up at the man, he had an unreadable expression making his lips all slack even though the red lipstick covering his scars on both sides of his mouth were work its magic, making the villain look redoubtable. 

”You know, for such a pretty boy you smile too little.” He giggled frantically before almost chocking on his own tongue, darting it out of his mouth, dampening his lips after calming down from the coughing.

”Maybe we should put a smile on your face, too.”

Bruce felt his gut clench, and before he could react his body jolted and bile came dripping down his chin only to land onto the concrete floor. 

Unhappy sounds came from the Joker as he strode towards Batman, not stopping before he reached the man.

”You can’t always make a mess of yourself.”

Bruce felt fabric brushing over his chin, drying away most of the remaining bile. The Jokers tongue where at the corner of his lips, revealing that the man was concentrating on the task he performed. The smell of the cotton and the laundry detergent made Bruce whine like a lost pup. He didn’t dare to face the Jokers eyes.

”Shh, shh, shh… None of that, come on big guy. You’ve only been here five days, you’re not gonna give in to me right yet? There’s no fun in that.”

Comforted by rough, slender fingers stroking the corner of his face, toying with his beard, Bruce jerked away at the touch. The Joker didn’t seem hurt nor concerned. He shrugged, like saying _suit yourself_.

”You know, me doing all the talking isn’t working. It’s lonely, so very… lonely. I’m gonna fetch that water you wanted earlier, hm?”

Bruce nodded, trying to keep his mind and thoughts straight. If he fainted God knows what the madman would do to him.

As soon as the other man slide limping out of the door, he returned. Waving with the bottle in his hand, tempting the hell out of Bruce, making his mouth even dryer at the thought of water.

The Joker unscrewed the cap of the water bottle, pressing it gently against Batmans mouth who eagerly gulped down every single drop of it. Well, you know, except half of it which ran down his chin joining the bile on the floor.

”That’s a good boy, feeling all better now? Good. Now, that’s enough for now.”   
  
If this was a completely different situation, with someone else beside the Joker, Bruce might have been comforted by the kind gesture. But it was indeed the Joker who he didn’t trust one bit. Goddamn him, playing his mind-games.

”W-where am I?”, grunted Bruce, his voice all raspy.

”No, no, no. That’s rude, big guy. You need to ask the right questions, or I’ll punish you. That’s how this’ll work, Batman.” The seriousness in the madman's voice didn’t alarm Bruce, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t concerned for his own safety either.

Batman? Oh, right. Bruce still had the mask on. 

”Why haven’t you taken my mask of?”

Muffled laughs came from the Joker as he sat back on the stool. He locked like he was in a good mood, but Bruce knew that could suddenly change. ”Now you’re asking all the right questions!”, the Joker cried, still laughing.

”It was tempting, I must admit. Knowing the true identity of Batman, the question I haven’t been able to answer all these years… But I almost did it when we looked for microchips or whatever, and I cut your neck open I had to lift up your mask, just slightly. It would’ve been so easy, just to push it off.” The Joker surely looked puzzled, just staring at the emptiness beside Batman.

”But nah, then I would ruin this game of ours. Wouldn’t I?”

Bruce seemed just as puzzled by the Jokers statement, and he must’ve seen it because now he was up and about again, walking in circles around Bruce’s hanging body.

”If you haven’t got it yet, I’m challenging you to a new sort of game. Instead of always having it your way, we gonna play by my rules, hm? I’m tired of fist-fighting with you, where you have the advantage.”  


Feeling the Jokers slow breaths just behind him, by his shoulder, the madman continued to talk.

”My game, my rules. If you don’t like them, then talk to the judge. Who by the way is me, if you didn’t get that either.”

”I got that.”

Even if Bruce couldn’t see his enemy’s face he assumed a big grin sticking to the horrific face. ”Whip that fucking grin out of your face. I can’t stand the feeling of you enjoying this.”

”Don’t be cruel now, no one likes a bad loser.”

”I haven’t lost.”

The Joker laughed another one of his grim guffaw, still behind him, patting away at Batmans back. ”You will, big guy, just wait and see. When I’m finished with you, you won’t just reveal your identity willingly, you’ll be my puppet, dancing along to my strings.”

”Never,” Batman hissed through gritted teeth, launching his legs towards the Joker. Assuming he hit something when the madman dug hit nails into the bare flesh of his back.

”Don’t forget I have the advantage here, I am the king’s fool and you’re simply my puppet. You can’t escape me, hm?”

A needle pierced Bruce’s stiff lower back followed by an obvious sting of some liquid finding its way into Bruce’s muscles. The bright room turned dark once again, but Bruce still fought to keep sticking to consciousness. 

”Sleep tight, _puppet_.”


	2. Addicted To Your Needle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joker's about to go out of town for a week but first he needs to pay his favorite captive a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so not happy about the way this chapter turned out, but I just needed some of the information in this chapter to be out there. Re-writing would just make everything worse, tried that a couple of times but in the end I stuck to my original script.
> 
> My phone and notes are full with future ideas for chapters so I'm really exited for this fic to actually get started. Hope you'll stick with me until the end.

Floating between what felt like life and death, Bruce completely lost track of time. It could’ve been an hour, five hours or even five days since the Joker had last paid him a visit. 

Too tired to think he hanged there, like a butchered animal apart from the fact that he _thought_ he was still alive. 

All he knew was that the shot the Joker had given him the last time they encountered had started to wear off. Bruce’s body had been able to relax only to later on leave the body he’d cared so much about getting a mind of its own. It craved the substance the madman had inserted into him, showing itself through drowsiness, vomiting and constipation just to name a few symptoms Bruce had experienced.

Maybe death was like this - not knowing whether you lived or died. It got to Bruce, not knowing if he would ever see another living human again. Maybe he brought this upon himself. Maybe he deserved this fate. Maybe-

”Wakey, wakey sleeping beauty! It’s time to rise.” 

Bruce tried opening his eyes but the eyelids fell shut, objecting and refusing to look at the madman. But that was partly Bruce trying to wake up from a bad dream. It didn’t help though as the Joker continued existing.

”Come on, chop chop. I don’t have all day,” the Joker griped around Bruce’s chin and cheeks, burying the very end of his fingertips in the bearded face, forcing the captive’s head in a more horizontal position, ”today we have some things on our to do-list to take care of.”

Jumping down from the tiny stool, the Joker skipped over to the kitchen sink and started fiddling around with something in front of his body, in just the right position so Bruce couldn’t see what he was up to.

Bruce had finally gotten back the control over his eyes and observed the hunched man from his hanging position. The pain in the shoulders had become so frequent he had just stopped thinking about it.

The sound of metal on metal filled the room with sound before it died down. Soon enough the room filled with the Jokers voice instead.

”I arrived here an hour ago, but you weren’t awake to my disappointment. Thought I would wait for you to wake up but I reached the end of my patience. It’s too lonely, Batman. You know, you should really start using that pretty mouth of yours and start talking. If you don’t I can as well cut out the tongue you have in there,” the Joker stopped talking when Bruce made a dissatisfied frown, ”just to lift that burden of your shoulders, hm?”

Bruce couldn’t tell if he was serious or not, but not taking any chances he did as the Joker told him to.

”F… Foo-…-d.”

”Did you say _food_ , hm? Well, of course he said food you bloody idiot. All humans need to eat, silly,” turning around in matter of a second, the Joker looked deeply troubled, ”the thing is, Batman, I don’t know if you truly _are_ human under that mask. As far as I know you might be a mutt of some kind. You might eat insects like a real bat, then I wouldn’t want to feed you with the wrong food…”

Bruce got what he was trying to do, not buying any of it. Simply glaring at the fool like a grumpy child.

Just like the Joker could read his mind he started to speak again, ”I can tell that you’re hesitating. Well, what to do about that?”

The madman started pacing round and round from wall to wall, slowly nagging away at Bruce’s patience.

”Oh, I know!” The Jokers face appeared just in front of Bruce’s eyes, making him look down, anywhere but at the farded villain.

”No, no. None of that, come here and look at me.” Once again the Jokers fingertips pinned the bottom of Batman’s head, forcing his hanging head upwards.

Eyes still darting around, searching for something to hold on to the Joker quickly turned furious and raised his hand high above his head to beat some sense into Batman.

Right before the hand hit Bruce’s left cheek, the madman stopped himself. The Joker took a step away from the Bat and placed a few strings of hair behind his ears where they belonged before focusing his attention on the hanging man, once again.

”Each time you disobey me, I’ll cut you.” The Joker flipped out a knife out of one of his pockets as he walked behind Batman, lightly tracing the edge of the sharp tool over his broad back but making sure not to draw any blood.

”So every time you see the scars you’re reminded of your disobedience. Sounds fair enough, hm?”

Bruce remained quiet.

”That’s two cuts, one for not looking at me and another one for not answering when I ask you a question”, grunted the Joker happily as he started to carve away at two perhaps five centimeters long strips of open cuts. The lines made on Bruce’s back couldn’t possibly be straight as the Joker took his time making them.

Hot, steamy blood traveled down the skin continuing down Bruce’s armored bottom. The pain were bearable as the wounds weren’t _that_ deep.

When the sadist lifted the knife, finishing the second cut just kept going, starting to carve a third cut. Bruce snapped in protest.

”Oh, sorry. Just got a little bit carried away.” He still finished though.

”Never start something you won’t finish, it gives you bad karma. At least that’s what I heard.” The lunatic giggled at his own words as he strode back to his stool. Sitting down, the clown almost shut down, like he were snoozing.

Bruce felt strange when the Joker still were in the room but everything remained completely still. Maybe the Joker even frightened the shadows into obeying him. Bruce wouldn’t be surprised though. 

”Well, now we’ve been chatting for a while. We should get started on our to-do list, hm? Wait here, don’t go anywhere!” said the madman shuffling around Batman looking for something in Bruce’s blind spot.

Feeling like he should be angrier or less cooperative Bruce patiently waited. Sure, like he could do anything other that to stay put. 

”I’ve prepared a little task for our mutual friend, Trevor, to do while I’m gone for a week. He’ll take care of you and give you your daily dose of opiate.”

”Opiate?”

”Oh please, you didn’t think is was painkillers I injected into you the last days? Oh, you’re so easily fooled. No, you see, it is heroine. You should really step up your game, Batman,” the Joker laughed, ”when I’m done taking you apart there won’t be an ounce of the old you lurking around.”

Fighting a couple of drug addicts throughout the years Bruce knew what horrible things different substances did to the human body and mind. All but nice things to speak the truth.

Stepping out of the blind spot the Joker walked over to the kitchen sink and grabbed the syringe filled with heroin.

”Do you want it quick or slowly? Through a vein or in a muscle? It’s all your choice, I’m fine with either.”

”How about neither?”, Bruce tried offering the Joker an way out of what were just about to happen.

”Doesn’t work like that my friend. Then I decide: vein it is.”

Bruce wouldn’t give in without a struggle, kicking and struggling, making it a pain in the ass for the lunatic to even come near him but the man just stood there, the exact right distance for any of Bruce’s kicks not to hit him. Bruce quickly grew tired due to the lack of energy in his system and soon enough he just gave in, letting the Joker in close to inject the drug. To Bruce’s surprise it somewhat calmed his raging and craving body.

_You’re_ _not giving in, you’re just playing along. Hang in there, you’ll fix this._

”See? That wasn’t so bad, was it? Good boy. Trevor! Come in here!” 

The door opened and in came the same man that had mounted the fluorescent lamp the other day. The Joker gave him instructions as to how he would care for the captured Bat the upcoming week as he were ”going out of town” for something Bruce didn’t get. And Trever were not, under any circumstances to feed nor talk to the Bat.

”Got that?”, the Joker asked when he were done giving Trevor the rules of the upcoming week.

”Yes, boss. Got it.”

”Good. Now, let’s go. Gotham awaits my return.”

Leaving the room in suck a haste left Bruce feeling neglected. As the Joker had a responsibility towards his prisoner, Bruce caught himself thinking.

Well, at least he was alone again. Left to the safe silence.


	3. Maybe A Little Bit Too Intimate?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm much happier how this turned out, the other chapter is absolute shit. Oh well, might re-write it but don't expect too much. I'm investing so much time into writing now a days so school's suffering. Gonna try and update once a week, for those of you who are interested.
> 
> Enjoy!

The week spent with Trevor while the Joker were doing some of his shady business turned out far better than Bruce had anticipated. If he didn’t know better he’d say Trevor stayed around the clock, probably entertaining himself the best he could.

The first two days Bruce tried talking to the man but he remained silent, sticking to the rules the Joker had instructed him to follow. But living in the solitary this place doomed you to teared on Trevor who gave in to Bruce’s questions after 72 hours of loneliness.

In the beginning it was all on a very private level from both parties, trying to keep it as professional the situation allowed them to. Bruce often asked the questions and Trevor answered them. He didn’t mind not having to contribute to the small-talk as much as his prison-guard did.

Once Trevor grew tired of talking, mouth all dry from ranting, he disappeared only to return a minute later with a water bottle in both hands, one for himself and another for Bruce.

Trevor were a quite chatty fellow, when he didn’t smoke one of his cheap cigarettes he talked non-stop. This far he had told Bruce about his younger years as a hockey-player and getting a scholarship, too. Once he had moved all over the country he had made one too many friends from the wrong side of the law and ended up in prison for manslaughter. Five years later he walked out into the arms of the oh so lovely Joker and had worked for him ever since, counting three years this past christmas.

The fifth day Trevor had actually left the place to get some necessities from the grocery store as he were running short of magazines and cigarettes, so Bruce were left alone for the first time in two days. Whether Trevor sat on the same stool the Joker had used a couple of days earlier reading his goddamned magazines full of gossip and celebrity news he were still sitting in the same room as Bruce.

Bruce felt kind of anxious about being alone again and impatiently awaited Trevor's return. He thought about the life he had had before this mess became reality, Alfred and his company, Wayne Enterprise just to name a few things.

Trying to cope with being cut of from the rest of the world was bad enough but not having any control was fucking worse. Even if the few past days had been the best of these three weeks Bruce knew they weren’t going to last while the Joker came back.

 

* * *

 

As the door cracked open Bruce took the leap from thoughts back to reality eyeing Trevor up and down. He carried two rather big plastic bags and one made from brown paper from McDonald’s. 

”Thought ya would be starving by now. Joker needs to feed ya’ or you’ll disappear into thin air. Ma’ gran always told me that when I was younger. Hope you don’t mind your fries being cold. Took some time drivin’ here.”

”Everything will do just fine after three weeks of starvation.”

”Ya’ just gotta keep quiet when J comes back. I’ll drop dead for this,” talking as he fetched the stool standing next to the wall, Trevor put it in a safe distance from Bruce’s hanging body and started unpack the food he’d bought from McDonald’s.

”You have my word.” It was the truth and nothing but the truth.

Trevor rose, walking over to Bruce with a pack of soggy, unsalted fries in on hand. Slowly feeding one frie after another Trevor patiently waited for him to actually chew down the one he had in his mouth before giving him another one.

”Want some water?” Trevor's thoughtfulness almost touched Bruce. _Almost_.

”Yes, please,” Bruce answered Trevor before greedily swallow down a couple gulps of bottled water when Trevor pressed a bottle to his lips.

Trevor sat calmly back at his place and eating his fries and a burger while Bruce just watched, not feeling any fuller than before.

”I’d give ya’ some more but Google told me not to, y’know not having eaten for a couple of weeks makes your tummy fucked up. Could be, eh, dangerous. Ya’ should slowly get used to it.”

First time in three weeks Bruce _laughed_. Laughed at the thought of the Joker feeding him. It was a ridiculous thought all together. The Joker didn’t feed people, he starved them and stripped them of all human rights.

”I know ya’ don’t see it but he’s a nice fella,” said Trevor, quickly adding ”when he wants. Lil’ bit psycho but OK.”

”Maybe in a parallel universe, and it’s still just a maybe. If he and I were the last people on the earth and I had one bullet I’d rather commit suicide then give him the pleasure of dying. I’d bet the devil would spat him right back anyways.”

Trevor frowned at the cruel words aimed towards his boss, and Bruce had a hard time figuring out why. He couldn’t think of one positive thing about the Joker. Or, could he? From a certain angle he might be, just might be a little bit… No, not just a little but a lot…

_ Stop thinking such sick thoughts. It’s the drugs talking. Yes. It’s simply must be the drugs talking. _

Luckily Trevor didn’t press the issue any further. Instead he continued eating while both men stayed quiet. 

When he had finished his burger, Trevor simply stood up and started to prepare todays dosage of heroine. 

Bruce didn’t need to see what Trevor did, he had memorized the sounds that led to anticipation growing inside of him, mouth watering and mind racing. He wanted it. No, but his body wanted most of all. Bruce were rather okay with it, too, when truth had to be told. 

Trevor used the lighter he stored in the left pocket of his jacket to lit up the candle he used to melt the heroine to its boiling point, it only took a couple of moments for the spoonful with heroin to melt into a gooey substance ready to be injected into Bruce’s veins. Part heroine part water were in the syringe when Trevor finally turned around.

This time is took a moment longer than it used to for Trevor to get his shit together and find a vein for the drug to be injected into. Once it was done Bruce automatically relaxed as he had started to crave the drug to function in his day to day life.

Another part of their daily routine was to get high together. Usually Trevor walked over to his stool with another needle in his hand, injecting the highly addictive substance into himself before picking up one of his stupid magazines only to pick off where he last paused. Today appeared to be no different.

 

* * *

 

”Honey, I’m home!”

The first thing Bruce looked for were Trevor. He were nowhere to be seen. In fact, all traces of him ever existing were gone: the stool stood in the middle of the room just were the Joker had left it, no McDonald’s bags in the corner and no magazines lied spread over the floor. Nothing. Trevor must’ve cleaned it all up while Bruce slept, no longer floating in and out of consciousness.

”Don’t look so sad, I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

It was still just the sixth day and the Joker weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow. Bruce metal shrugged. He couldn’t care less.

The few next minutes the Joker spent going on about what he had done this past week: killing, plotting and some more killing in between plotting. Bruce had also quite enjoyed his week but didn’t mention it just as he had promised Trevor.

”That’s enough about me. So, what were you up to?”

Bruce looked up, facing the farded, smiling face. ”I was just hanging around.”

It took a moment for the Joker to get the intended word-pun but once he did he laughed for a good minute. Even Bruce’s lips curled into a small, smug smile.

”You amuse me, Batman. Must admit that.”

The Joker strolled around in the room, not saying anything. To Bruce it looked like the madman re-introduced himself to the surroundings and checking so everything were still in order. 

”Trevor made a good job keeping you company?”

”Little bit quiet for my liking, but he did fine.”

”He told you the hockey-story too, didn’t he? I swear to you if I ever hear that story one time more I’ll kill the poor kid. Can’t help it though, neglected from childhood with both his mother and father slaves to alcohol.” The Joker yanked off his long, draping coat and threw it at the metal sink, slowly loosening his tie with one hand.

”Why not just kill him now? Maybe you have a hard time finding pets as good as him,” suggested Bruce.

”Maybe. Maybe not. He’s easily manipulated but you see, the problem with clay is once it’s hardened you can’t re-form it afterwards. When he’s done serving his purpose I’ll just push him over the edge and when he hits the thing called real world he’ll shatter to a million bits. Then it’s just to put him back together. Takes a while, sure, but it’s easier then starting over with a fresh piece of clay.”

”Makes sense.”

The Joker lightly smiled at Bruce’s cute try at understanding him.

”Today I think you should take a bath,” said the green-haired lunatic as he started to loosen Batman from the chains, ”then we’ll get you into fresh cloths and maybe eat a bit, hm?”

Landing on the cold, damp concrete-floor Bruce hissed with the pain striking every single muscle in his body. The heroine had the last days dampened the aching in his whole body, only when he stayed still but now it was to no good.

”Fuck.” He took a couple of deep breathes before actually trying to move, always feeling the piercing look from the Joker at even the slightest movement. Bruce knew the Joker had nothing to fear. In this agonizing state he couldn’t harm a fly.

”Unfortunately I can’t help you, so you just gonna have to get up yourself. Take your time but be quick about it.”

Bastard.

Sooner than later had passed a long time ago when Bruce finally stood up on shaky legs, leaning his side on the walls using them as support. It wasn’t a long way to the bathroom but it took them a good fifteen minutes to reach. Eyeing his body up and down, he had lost a lot of weight and ever more muscles.

Throughout their epic journey Bruce got small encouragements from the Joker, sweetly telling him what a great job he did, always pushing him harder but so gentle Bruce didn’t get annoyed with him. 

The bathroom was small. At first he had a hard time imagine them both being in there at the same time but once he got into the tub it wouldn’t be a problem

”Stip.” It was the first order Bruce had gotten today.

Another ten minutes passed then all of the armor lied in a pile on the floor. The only piece still on Bruce’s body was the mask. The Joker saw him pause but didn’t push the matter.

”If it’s such a big insecurity of yours then keep it on. Either way is fine by me.”

Bruce thanked the Joker but didn’t do nor say anything. Just silently in his head where only he heard it.

The water in the tub were obviously rather hot as steam slowly found its way upwards warming the small space. Bruce got in, it wasn’t pretty or anything but he actually got in all by himself, half of the water now on its way over the edge, pouring down on the floor. The Joker had found a place to sit on at the toilet lid. Only now Bruce saw the knife he held in a firm but loose grip in his right hand.

”I don’t want to use it, so just keep being a good boy.”

”Busted,” Bruce admitted.

It occurred to him that he were completely naked, well, almost, and he didn’t feel awkward about it. Maybe it was due to the Joker simply keeping his gaze from the neck and up but Bruce simply couldn’t bother to care.

He minded his own business, washing every part of his sweaty, dirty skin and letting the hot water warm his stiff muscles. After barely ten minutes he felt like a new person.

The Joker reached for a soap sitting on the basin and held out a hand for Bruce to grab it. ”Here. Should be easier to wash away the smell with this.”

Bruce nodded thankfully and grabbed the soap bar, their hands lightly brushing against each other as he took it. The Joker still just sat there, keeping his eyes to himself. Like Bruce had a piece of dignity left to care for. 

He sat there, also keeping his eyes to himself as he washed his body with the small piece of soap.

”All done.”

The Joker got up. To give Bruce the towel and at the same time help him up, he put down the knife on the discolored sink attached to the tiled wall so he could use both his hands.

Seeing the knife lying there, Bruce had to act. Ignoring his limited movement and crappy balance he, as quickly as he could, rose and grabbed the handle of the chance to his freedom and launched at the Joker.

Of course the Joker reacted without delay and got a hold of Bruce's wrist. The Joker pushed for the knife in Bruce’s chests direction as Bruce struggled to keep it from stabbing him in the chest.

It was only a second before the lunatic advanced and Bruce slipped, falling handless into the tub hitting his head.

It surely didn’t end there as the Joker furiously took a hold of Bruce’s head, forcefully pushing his head under the surface.

Not being to able to gasp for air Bruce struggled in oblivion, trying to free himself from the rock hard hold the Joker had on him. What felt like an eternity passed by before Bruce finally were able to break the surface solely to be pushed down again, this time swallowing half a gallon of water.

Coughing under water were a _bad_ idea as his windpipe filled with even more water. He heard screams but couldn’t fully hear a word of what were said, simply the fact that it wasn’t the Jokers screaming voice.

Bruce’s lungs screamed, too. They ached at the loss of oxygen and prayed for him to give them some.

Merely thirty seconds had passed when he was pulled out of the water greeted by Trevor who held onto him. His blurry vision made out the Joker standing slightly behind him, looking terrifying as always.

Trevor heaved Bruce out of the tub.

Feeling the stable flooring, Bruce started coughing so hard he vomited part bile part water.

”Ya’ alive?” It was Trevors trembling voice coming somewhere above him, sounding rather distant.

”No, Trevor. But tell your boss Bruce Wayne still lives,” Bruce pushed himself up agains the side of the tub, tearing his mask off, ”and tell him Batman won’t kill him, I’ll have that pleasure for myself.”

The last moment Bruce remembered just as life turned black again was the lunatic laughing, repeating his name, trying it out on the tip of his tongue.

” _Bruce Wayne._ Nice to make you acquaintance.”

 


	4. The Show Must Go On

The Joker was wet. Not in the sexual kind of way, but rather soaking. All the way from the dripping mop of hair to the lower parts of his legs making the fabric cling to some very specific body parts.

Bruce caught himself staring as the man unbuttoned one button at the time, taking his time exposing the pale skin and pointy ribs he hid away from the world, stripping himself of all humanity the clown possessed. 

”It’s rude to stare.”

Caught off guard, Bruce snapped his eyes from the almost transparent chest lacking any visible body hair to meet the Jokers gaze. He noticed that he was no longer strapped to the ceiling but rather to a stiff wooden chair, duck-tape around his wrists and ankles. It was a good swap, though.

The Joker finished the unbuttoning with grace, putting on quite show in front of his audience. Soon enough the dark shirt and the tie were tossed aside. The clown kicked of his shoes in the same direction, making noise at the impact with the concrete floor.

”You know, it’s free this time, look all you want _Brucie_. I promise I won’t charge you for this round, but the next time-”

”Don’t flatter yourself.”

Even if Bruce flinched at the sound of his newfound nickname, he didn’t let the Jokers eyes go, trying to look as intimidating as his position allowed him to be.

A laugh dug itself into the ears of the man, sending a chill down his spine, almost making Bruce cry. The sound was dark and husky but at the same time full with joy, sending him over the edge of common sense.

What came next, Bruce wished to forget as he lied countless nights playing the memory on repeat making him hate the man named Bruce Wayne slightly more for every time he pushed his internal replay-memory-button. 

The Joker tilted his head, not breaking eye contact, his bony fingers unbuckled the brown leather belt keeping his pants in place on his narrow hips. When the clown removed the belt, his striped pants fell to the floor. Underneath the pants the Joker wore nothing but a pale armor; his skin.

Bruce was the one of the two to surrender in defeat, letting his eyes and mind soak in the show the Joker put on; makeup smeared on his muscular neck and face, bare chest ripped but undernourished making his rips poke out in a unnatural way, pink nipples flushed and erect from the cold in the basement and the… erh, the… Bruce was too prude to even think of the word describing the Jokers private parts, eyes snapping back at the Jokers face where the journey had begun.

At least the lunatic still wore the chequered, ugly socks on his feet. The only piece of clothing still covering up a minor part of the clown.

”Take a good look, sweetheart. Next time you gonna have to pay.” The Joker remained still, not bothered or embarrassed by his own nakedness. 

” _Pay_? With money I don’t have access to? I’m a little bit strapped down at the moment.”

A vicious smile was all Bruce got, no laughter nor verbal reply, just that cringing smile of his.

”Not all in this world can be bought with money. That’s something you’re gonna have to learn, _Brucie_.”

As hard it was to hear, it was completely and utterly true. Bruce never thought nor considered the price tag when shopping or buying services. Whatever it costed him, he could always make it back multiplied by ten in the matter of a heartbeat.

”So, what’s next?”

The Joker put on a confused face, moving towards the blood-covered sink simply to pick up his coat to cover up his body. Bruce observed the clown as he emptied it of all possible weapons hidden in att the pockets and seams, revealing three folding-knives, some ammunition, a small but powerful silver revolver, a couple of razorblades, a tiny mirror, and to finish off the pile that had been building up on the kitchen sink; a pencil.

”What do you mean _What’s next_? Do I always have to have a plan? Hm? I just found out your true identity, _Brucie_. I know I’m good, but come on. Give the clown some slack. Let’s just have _fun_.” The scarred face smiled, tongue darting out of his mouth. 

”I don’t think our definition of _fun_ is the same.”

The Joker shrugged. ”Maybe not, but you gotta admit this little.. game of ours,” the Joker walked over from the sink to Bruce, crouching down at Bruce’s feet looking up at his guest, smiling as he drew patterns and symbols over Bruce’s upper leg, ”has been real fun.”

”If by fun you mean kidnapped, drugged, humiliated and forced into submission, then yes. It’s been real fun, Joker.”

”Bruce Wayne, you are by far the most pessimistic person I’ve ever met. It’s sounds just my life, while visiting Arkham. Do you know what they do to their residents? Let me tell you, it’s no legal things going on there. They start off every day with the happy pills and breakfast, then it’s back to being lonely, listening to the screams of their other guests…”

Bruce felt the Jokers strokes getting harder, more aggressive when the clown recalled the memories from his stays at Arkham. As the clown continued, clenching to Bruce’s skin, probably making all kinds of nasty bruises. 

”The isolation is far from the worst, let me tell you. The dreadful therapy sessions, always trying out new, illegal methods. Once, they even put a priest in the room trying to pray the evil away, followed by a exorcism. Ha! Imagine the look on his face when I played along to his little game. Spoiler, he didn’t live to do another exorcism.”

”I know, I read your files. You skinned him, right?”

”Oh, not just the skinning darling. He was one of those gay-therapies, so he got a little bit of what he deserved.”

Bruce looked down at the Jokers face, studying the features. The clown talked about murder like it was nothing, just another number to the countless time he had taken another humans life, destroying families and relationships forever. But still, he couldn’t stop himself from pitying the clown. He hated himself for it.

The Joker shifted his weight from his feet to his knees, now sitting right beneath Bruce’s legs. Bruce had to readjust his position too, as the clown put his head in his lap and sighing, making himself appear smaller than he was.

They sat like that for god knows how long; Bruce strapped to the chair with no possibility to comfort the clown and the clown, well, he was barely breathing as Bruce kept an eye on his broad upper back only rising to fall once every thirty second.

The Joker finally broke the silence. ”I thought it would feel different.”

”Different? Care to explain?”

Still face lying in Bruce’s lap, Joker mumbled out word after word, none of them making any sense. 

”I can’t hear you.”

”I don’t feel anything, it’s just as empty as before. Now I know your identity, and what’s the fun about that, hm? Batman was my only motive, my only care in the world. And, now it’s…” Joker gaze fell upon Bruce’s lips, heaving himself up simply to meet the mans eyes in a equal height, ”gone.”

Joker was a few inches from Bruce’s face, and he could feel the warmth of the lunatics breath. This was the first contact with a human in almost a month and Bruce cherished every second, not knowing when he might get the chance to feel the heat of another humans body. It didn’t matter that it was the _Jokers_ heat, he still wanted to keep it like this forever; intimate and raw feelings filling their presence.

”Maybe there’s more to Batman than you first thought.”

”No, I don’t think so. Batman is a caped crusader, the power between bad and good. He’s the second Joker in the card-game. But, Bruce Wayne on the other side, hm. Can’t wait to see what he can put up with.”

Bruce met the clowns eyes, trying to read the expression of a thousand unsolved mysteries, the riddle called the Joker was so simple to solve, so simple it was impossible. But Bruce had to fight back, giving Joker a worthy opponent once again. Maybe Batman couldn’t solve this riddle, but now Batman was gone. Joker had said so himself.

Maybe, just maybe, Bruce Wayne was the man who could tame the raging storm. He had to try. For the sake of the city of Gotham.

”Wait and see, or find out yourself by playing my game.” Bruce leant a inch closer to Jokers face, giving him the choice to advance or be the defeated one, a tingling feeling growing itself stronger in his gut. This was either insane or the best idea of the century.

”I like playing games.”

”Good, play it then.”

”I don’t like not knowing what might come.” Joker’s voice was dead serious, eyes piercing Bruce’s skull like it was trying to get into his mind, reading the secret thoughts racing through his head.

”It’s a one in a lifetime offer. Take it, or leave it.”

Bruce knew Joker couldn’t decline, he was way too curious for his own good to say no and walk away. He just waited, listening to the murky room’s silence. 

When Joker’s scarred lips twitched, somewhat forming a smile Bruce knew his answer. ”What about my game?

”Torture me all you want, give me your best. Let’s see who wins.”

”Oh, Brucie-darling, I haven’t even started yet. When I’m done with you, you’ll turn out just like Trevor; molded to my liking, obeying my orders before I can even bark them.”

” _Game on._ ”

The smile was nothing Bruce had ever seen before, if he could’ve seen it for a second longer he could perhaps have been able to describe it, but before he could act Joker had forcefully locked their lips together, t wo hungry men devoured each other, both trying to get the upper hand. 

Oh god, what had he gotten himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, eh, this happened. I had literally no inspiration to write the sadistic Joker this time, but believe me when I say he's still there. Figured I had to get this chapter done so I can proceed with the chapters I've planned for.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends. I'm trying out writing fanfiction as I simply couldn't find a similar story to this. I'll edit the chapters as I go along, so excuse any weird spelling or grammar.  
> This fanfiction is inspired by an episode of Game of Thrones when Theon gets tortured by Ramsey. Kind of building on the same story, for those of you who's watched it.
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy this fic!


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